Destiny Remembers
by Gohan'slittlebro47
Summary: Harry was chosen from birth by a prophecy to be the savior. Everyone knows that. But things went wrong. The war is being lost. Now he has a new chance. Better summary inside. I'm going to lower rating to T.
1. Prolouge: Destiny Remembers

Harry Potter was chosen from birth to be a savior. Everyone knows that. But things went wrong in Harry's world. Now he has another chance. Will things go right this time? Or will Harry fail again? Contains violence, some adult language and suggestive scenes, Time Travel, and AU. Dumbledore is not hated, but is not going to be allowed to manipulate.

IMPORTANT Okay, in this chapter it says that Ron betrayed them. It does not mean what you think, and Harry is not mad at Ron, and has forgiven him. Harry knows the truth, but it will be explained in later chapters. 

**SWEET! I finally fixed it! It took me forever to figure out why FanFiction wouldn't let me post this...**

**Yes, I realize this is EXTREMELY short, but it's only the prologue, and I felt that I just had to stop where it did.**

_**Prologue: Remembering**_

Destiny was having a bad day. A very bad day. Not just one of those days where nothing happens and you get so bored that you throw your food supply at the wall to try and distract yourself, but one of those pit-in-the-stomachs-I-didn't-do-something-I-should-have days. And she didn't like it.

First, she had almost destroyed one of her favorite worlds because she had accidentally created a small paradox in its time field by Traveling through its History in order to see a play she had missed, a rather good one written by some African boater who believed he had seen a mermaid. Then her pet Chimera had ran away and nearly drowned in the Cold Sea that separated Life, and what humans called Hell, and Zaphon, or Heaven.

Then her rival, Fate, had seen fit to embarrass her in front of all the other Higher Beings, simply because she had forgotten to change out of her night robes before attending the meeting where they discussed the shortcomings of their dimensions' inhabitants, listing ways to improve them.

Lying down on the old and plain, but serviceable couch (for Destiny frowned upon unnecessary embellishment, and only used it in her people's lives to appease Fate, who was of slightly higher rank than she), she settled into a meditative state. Randomly choosing one of the larger, but slightly less advanced, worlds in her favorite Galaxy, she began channeling the prayers through her mind.

This is very soothing because she was only trying to hear the most heart-felt prayers. These were almost always happy prayers, of hope, thanks, and love. After all, why would an evil person pray to the Good Higher Beings?

Filling herself with the thoughts of the smaller and narrower minds, she felt a sense of peace fall over her, like a protective blanket, or the warmth of a lover's embrace. There was prayer of boundless thanks for bringing together a pair of Soulmates, and there a prayer beseeching help from the Gods (or the Higher Beings as they preferred), but filled with limitless hope.

Seeing that the person that the prayer was coming from had a kind and pure heart, and wasn't praying for this for any selfish reasons, she granted his wish, and the man woke up to the elated cries of his wife and only son who had miraculously been healed over night of their the wounds and fevers. The joy coming from this man practically radiated off him, and the village threw a banquet for the family, whom the local doctor had deemed beyond help, allegedly saying it was up to the Gods. Well, the Gods had answered.

As she continued to listen to the hopes, dreams, and wishes, but not really thinking about any of them in depth, she felt a strange prickle, growing stronger quickly. She concentrated on the feeling, bringing it to bear at the top of her mind. She was more than surprised at what she heard, and immediately realized that this was what had been nagging at her all day, telling her she had forgotten about it.

* * *

"If there is any God, or anything at all watching over us, I ask for but one question to be answered before I go off to die in a hopeless battle. That question is: Why? 

"Why did my parents die? Why was I tossed into a hellhole for my childhood, where I was beaten regularly just for being alive? Did I do something profoundly wrong in a past life, so bad that Karma or whatever decided to torture me?

"Why did I have to be the one to face Voldemort, the one with the power, when it is clear now that I have none? Why was I bitten by a basilisk, then a Vampyre, and then a Werewolf, all of which now have venom in my body, and it is now poisoning my mind and leeching my body of its strength?

"Why did Sirius die? Why Remus? Why Tonks, why Moody, why Fred? Why Hermione? Why did you see fit to have Ron betray me, and have Ginny mutilated on THE DAY OF OUR WEDDING?

"Why am I alive, when all of my friends, the closest to a family I've ever known are dead, or worse? Why is Tom winning, and the world still looking at me for help? Why? I doubt there is an answer that could ever be reasonable, or maybe I'm just selfish, only thinking about my wounds, my reasons, and me, but still I must ask. Why? Why? Why…."

* * *

Destiny blinked. That in itself was unusual as Higher Beings rarely felt the need to do anything mortals did. She blinked again. 

She remembered that child, and what he was talking about seemed familiar, but wrong somehow…. Her eyes widened.

"Fuck."

**Well, there it is. I hope you liked it! I already have the next chapter written, but I'm editing it still, and I'll probably post it anywhere from a week from now to two weeks. And, don't worry, my next chapter is longer. I think it's about 4,000 words, four times as long as this, the most I've ever written! YAY! Go me! I'm making an effort! WHOOT!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! You have no idea (unless you're also an author) how much your kindly reviews motivate us. I'm open to suggestions and criticisms, and every review makes me update faster. However, while I don't mind flames, if there's nothing constructive in there, you're just making yourself look like an idiot and jack (insert word here. You all know which word I mean).**

**See? I'm holding all of my meaningless rambling 'til the end in the author's notes! YAY! WHOOT WHOOT!**


	2. Chapter I: Finding the Light

**Despite the fact that Harry is going back to the same Universe's past as before, there are already going to be a few changes in his life, without future Harry meddling. I see this as the same kind of thing as not being able to step in your footprint again in the exact same spot. You can never redo something exactly the same, and with the leap that Harry's making, he has room for changes.**

**Thanks to Hkokuryuha and Queen Selene I for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: Oops, forgot this on the prolouge. OK, why do you think it's called FAN fiction? Because the FANS write it, based off the REAL thing, meaning we OWN nothing. Pfft, I don't even own myself, legally. So stop rubbing it in.**

**Chapter One: Finding the Light**

Harry looked around at the small room, checking to see if he had forgotten anything. The house he had inherited from Lupin when he had been tortured and murdered by Death Eaters, and while he hated to profit from another's death, he had come to terms with the fact that he needed all the resources he could get.

The dark, musty, dingy room housed his most valued possessions, and was protected by nearly as many wards as Hogwarts and Gringrott's was. Here he stored ancient books of lore and knowledge, previously thought to be lost. And yet, they weren't nearly enough. Heck, he could barely read the books, let alone perform the spells and rituals within.

He was getting ready to go to his death, as he was finally resigned to do. Voldemort had defeated him on every other occasion, and taken one more thing away from him each time, without ever breaking a sweat.

Well, Harry had decided that as his power was starting to wane, he would attack with all his strength, and maybe succeed in being an annoyance to the Dark Bastard before he kicked the bucket, although, knowing himself, Harry would probably trip over the bucket first. Nothing had ever gone right in his life before, and he didn't see why it should start now. Luck was a jerk.

Pushing the first and last prayer he would ever give up to the heavens, he set out, but his toe caught on the carpet just outside the door, and he fell.

* * *

Harry sat up and groaned, wondering what he must have hit to have been knocked unconscious from such a small fall. He reached down out of habit to check the wrist holster in which he stored his wand. With a sense of alarm, he felt no bent and cracked stick at his shoddy holster. He didn't even feel a holster. His clothing felt lighter too, as if all he wore was a nightgown…. 

He opened his eyes and looked around widely, not seeing the familiar study, which hid the entrance to his secret room, but a wide plain stretched out below him, beyond which a dark, murky lake rested.

At first he thought he was flying, but then he looked at his feet, and behind him, and found that he was actually standing on a balcony, with few and simple designs, but the simplicity of the place made it all the more breathtaking. It was a masterpiece of workmanship, with flowing and overlapping designs on the door, which was the most elaborate thing, so he took it to be the seal of whoever lived here. He was clothed in some airy material, which seemed to float just above his skin, rather than rest on it.

When he looked more closely, he could tell that the door's designs contained a graceful dragon, a charging boar, a soaring phoenix, and a plethora of other animals. He could feel the power emanating from it, almost a heat on his face.

"Yes, it's very nice, isn't it?"

Harry jumped and twisted around, to see an impossibly beautiful woman standing before, every feature perfect, gentle curves, deep eyes, utterly astounding. However, rather than staring at her in amazement, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he began mentally scolding himself for not having noticed her presence before.

She smiled slightly and said, "Don't be angry at yourself, it's always hard for a mortal to notice us."

Harry's eyes narrowed a little more, and he gave a soft snort. "Mortals? What are _you_ then? God?"

The lady shrugged and said, "We prefer the term Higher Being, but whatever floats you boat."

Harry shook his head. "Well, I've finally gone insane. Where's the banana?"

The lady stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, since I've gone insane, I've decided that I'll believe that I'm a monkey, and I can't do that very well without a banana, so…"

She blinked. "You humans are extremely odd. Are you sure you're Harry Potter?"

Harry began getting angry. "I've more than earned the right to be crazy, so, if you have a problem with me being crazy, what's your reason?"

She stared again. "Um, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, so I'll just pretend that you weren't talking at all. I understand that you have fallen upon some, ah, hard times-"

"More like they've fallen on me," muttered Harry.

She continued on, undaunted. "-and I'm giving you a second shot at things. I can teleport your soul back in time, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Come along, we have some planning to do."

* * *

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You believe you are an offspring of the powers that came into existence when Creation was first started, and have powers unsurpassed by all but a few of your colleagues. You want to send me back in time, because after you set events into motion, you managed to forget about me, and that is disastrous because I was put there to kill Tom Riddle, who, if he isn't stopped in time, is going to stumble on an ancient power and destroy your favorite galaxy. I have a few questions." Harry was unnaturally calm. 

If Destiny were human, she would have been unnerved by the blank stare she was receiving from him, but she wasn't human, so she nodded pleasantly. "Fire away, to borrow a human expression."

"What the bloody Hell made you forget about the one thing that could save a GALAXY?"

"Er, actually it's kind of embarrassing, could you ask a different question?" Seeing no response coming from Harry, she sighed. "I thought not. Ok, I was invited to an unusually rousing game of cricket, and afterwards I, er, went to the movies in London with Power."

Harry blinked. "You forgot about me because you saw a game of cricket and went on a date?" Ignoring her protests that it hadn't been a date, he said to himself, "Bloody Hell, these people are more insane than me. Whatever." Turning back to her, he said, "Then, if you're so ruddy brilliant and powerful, why don't YOU go down to Earth and snap your fingers or click your heels or whatever and make everything better? What makes you think I _want_ to go back?"

"Well, for why I think you want to go back, those silly shields of yours can't block me. I can see the truth in you. However, to answer your other question, I can't directly meddle in the goings on of the Universe we Created because it wouldn't be able to stand the concentration of power and it would thus disintegrate. Oh, and cause every person in the Universe that I appear in and a couple alternate Universes closely connected to that one go insane before dying."

"So, a mortal in your direct presence should go mad and die from the amount concentrated power that they would be forced to absorb?"

"Actually, yes. I'm surprised you got that absorbing part."

Harry looked at her. "Why aren't I dead then? I know I'm insane, but shouldn't I be dying too?"

"Wow, you're really observant for your kind." She thought she heard him say something like, "Thanks to Hermione," but continued after cocking an eyebrow. "You aren't going insane because my force _isn't _concentrated right now. My force of being and power is spread out all over this land, although a little bit more concentrated right here to create this house, which should explain the heady feeling I'm sure you're getting.

"The power manifests itself in this world between worlds, usually suiting our personality, though we have figured out a way to change it with a lot concentrating." A table with a glass of lemonade suddenly came into existence right next to Harry, and Harry took the hint and downed it, thinking that if it were poisoned or something like that it wouldn't matter because it would be a more pleasant way to die than being murdered by Lord Unholy Wart anyway.

"This place has a natural resistance against our powers, being at the edge of the barrier between Life, Final Death, and everlasting Purgatory. Also, I've already started to imbue you with some of my power with that glass of lemonade, so hopefully that annoying heady feeling will leave now."

Harry shrugged. "So, what am I actually going to do to get there?"

"Well, _you_ don't have to do anything until you get there. You see, I'm sending you to your _own_ original Universe, through time, not some alternate one where you died. Because you lived in this Universe, and because of the collective decision of the Higher Beings, you're going to have to go back only in soul, memories, and power, which will all be drawn to your younger self, and he will have to willingly agree to be joined with you in mind. I believe that once he agrees, your two minds, and powers, will combine, and you'll be one person again.

Trying to hurry past the "I believe" in her last statement, she said, "He'll probably do this in sleep, where he can create a setting in which he can understand what's happening, like forming a person out of you and talking to you."

"Exactly how young am I going to be?"

"I have no idea, but it's before you go to school."

Harry groaned. "Oh, that's just great. With my luck, I'll be thrown into the body of my 2 year old self, and be defenseless for years."

Destiny shook her head with a grin. "Actually, I had a talk with Luck, and a couple of the other Higher Beings. Apparently, he heard your comment about Luck being a jerk to you, and decided to prove you wrong. Also, the other Beings I talked to seem to like you and are going to give you some of their power, and watch over you."

Harry gave up trying to really understand what was going on. "Right. That makes perfect sense, so please don't explain anything else. When do I leave?"

She grinned again. "I think the process starts in 17.098 seconds."

Harry's eyes widened. "Wait, what's your name?" he said quickly.

Her smile got even wider. "I took the name of Destiny, but I you can call me Christine. Bye. If you need to contact me, just pass a message along with a soul that's starting its Journey to Death."

When Harry had completely disappeared, she sighed and went to talk to the last of the Higher Beings about Harry.

Change, Fate, and Power.

* * *

Harry didn't like the cupboard. It always left him sore and stiff, and that wasn't a good thing when you wanted to keep away from Dudley. 

He always woke up a little early, and took a look at himself in the mirror that he had scavenged from a dumpsters a few weeks ago. It was crusty and cracked, but Harry could still make out his reflection clearly enough.

He slept in boxers only, so he could easily see his whole body. He had a few scars across his chest, from when Dudley had pushed him through a glass window when Harry didn't play the prank on an old neighbor because the man had always been kind to Harry.

He could usually hear what was going on in the entire house, as the ventilating system opened up and was sucked out in the small cupboard under the stairs where he slept, and where he spent most of his time, but it was not healthy for him. All of the gases used to heat and cool the house mixed a little there due to gas leaks, which altered his appearance from what it would have been, should he have been in a more nourishing environment

His hair was slightly dull, dry, and seemed to be impossible to brush properly, and his hands abnormally dry, for the oils had been scalded off during the weekly heating of the house. His bones were weaker than they should have been, and easily bruised. He was often overcome by small bouts of asthma, because his lungs were weakened as well. He was also smaller than even a boy his age should have been, because of malnutrition.

However, a few good things had come from the less than healthy environment for an 8-year-old boy. His eyes were one of the most noticeable things affected. They were vibrant green at times, shining in such a way that they caught the attention of any near him, and other times dull gray-green, seemingly suppressed, so that he was barely noticed. Not that he knew whether that was from the gases or not.

He often used this as a method to stay out of trouble. If he cleared his mind and thought about almost nothing, other than being unnoticed, people around him would see him, but not notice him, and immediately forget that he existed, finding thinking about him an unnecessary effort.

The other benefit was that he could hear the TV. It wasn't that he liked to occupy his time listening to meaningless cartoons, for beatings given for unnecessary things had given him a sharp, pragmatic mind, and he didn't understand what Dudley liked about the stupid things that he constantly watched.

In an effort to get Dudley to become physically fit Aunt Petunia had made sure that Dudley watched an hour of Child's Fitness every day on channel 215. The few exercises that she actually managed to get Dudley to do had very little impact, other than making him punch a little bit harder.

Harry had heard the people telling the children on the channel about the ways to deal with asthma, and different exercises to get stronger and get bigger. He also heard them telling the kids about the importance of eating the right foods, and the right amount, so Harry decided to see if he could strike a deal with Dudley.

He told Dudley that if he gave Harry all the vegetables and fruit that Petunia gave him, let him eat them, and the glass of milk that she forced before allowing him to drink soda, then he would finish it off, and give back the empty glass and plate, as long as Dudley wouldn't hurt him as much.

Surprisingly, Dudley's small brain had calculated the facts and decided that he got the most benefit from the deal, and agreed.

He was slowly starting to get healthier, but there was no doubt that he was miserable. Dudley had always hurt him, whether it was twisting an arm to get what he wanted or throwing something at him because Dudley was angry, or bored.

The little boy sleeping quietly, with a few tears leaking out of his eyes, under the stairs in the cupboard, never expected what was going to happen to change his life so drastically in approximately 17.098 seconds.

* * *

Harry was fading away, his world slowly getting dark, a sickly warm feeling filling where his chest and stomach would have been had he had them. Suddenly, he got the impression that he was speeding towards something, being pulled towards it by an inconceivable force. Then a warm, cheerful light erupted in front of him, and he was engulfed by it. 

He slowly opened his eyes, and peered around him. Sitting on a small mat in front of him was a small boy, crying fitfully.

Harry may have given up his will to live and be happy, but he could never bear to see someone else in pain or grief. "What's the matter little one?"

The boy raised his head slowly to reveal a tear-streaked face. The tears were coming from a pair of startlingly vibrant green eyes. "I-I'm s-sorry," cried the boy, whom Harry was starting to quickly recognize . "I d-d-didn't m-mean t-to! D-don't tell Uncle V-V-Vernon. _Please!_"

Harry knelt down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Sshhh, it's okay. I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong." Harry's eyes hardened when he realized how true that was. "I won't hurt you."

He ran his hand through the boy's hair, both to confirm his belief, and calm the crying child. There, hidden by over-grown bangs, was the tell-tale scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, although a strike of lightning would have been preferable compared to it's like-ness's impact on the young boy's life.

The young Harry looked up again, and met his eyes. "Who a-are y-you?"

Harry smiled. "A friend. I'm here for you, and you'll never be alone again." Harry realized how ironic it was that he had always tried to not pity himself, but failed even now.

The boy looked at him again. "A friend? Like Piers is to Dudley?"

Harry replied, "Oh, no, no, Piers isn't a real friend. You'll have real friends, ones that care about you. Do you promise to take care of them?"

Nodding vigorously, the child answered, "Uh-huh, if I had a friend, I'd never let them get hurt! I wouldn't even let Dudley or Uncle Vernon hurt them."

Harry smiled genuinely, his younger self had quickly forgotten about his fears in the light of a friendship, and was showing more courage than Harry had originally had, in promising to defend them even against his uncle.

However, the boy still wanted a little more affirmation on the truthfulness of this person, and asked again. "Who are you?"

The older man seemed to visibly age even more. "I think that it would be better if I answered a different question first. That question is: Who are _you_?"

The child looked at him oddly. "I'm just Harry Potter. At least, I think my last name's Potter, I only heard Aunt Petunia say it once when she was screaming about my dad."

"Is that all you are? Just a boy living with his Uncle, Aunt, and cousin?"

Still completely clueless as to what the stranger was talking about, young Harry replied, "Yes, although Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia call me a freak a lot."

Harry frowned darkly at the young boy's answer. The child backed up, but seemed to realize that the anger wasn't directed at him. "We'll talk about that later. First, I want to know, what strange things have happened to you? Was your uncle yelling at you from outside the cupboard, and it locked suddenly, so he couldn't get in? Has Dudley chased you, and you wished really hard to be somewhere else, and then you were? Has stuff like that happened?"

The child seemed to think hard, but slowly nodded his head. Harry doubted that the boy thought hard about whether that kind of thing had happened or not, but judging from the look on the boy's face, rather to tell him or not. "Once, Dudley and Piers were punching me, and I felt something weird, and then when Piers tried to hit me again, his hand stopped a little in front of my face, and he yelled something. The next day, all the bruises were gone."

Harry hesitated a little longer this time, and the older man bent down and hugged, assuming correctly that Harry had been punished for the next one, but the hug apparently reassured the boy.

"I was walking home from school one time, and a dog jumped at me. I put out my hand, and the dog hit the wall. Then the owner came out, and shouted something for hurting his dog, and pulled me back to my house and told my uncle what happened. My uncle hit me, and locked me under the stairs. Aunt Petunia didn't give me a meal for three days.

"Also, one time I came home with a little stick I threw for Mr. Hengings little dog, and Aunt Petunia screamed at me and Uncle Vernon came out, and he knocked me down and broke this stick. He kicked me and locked me under the stairs again. I had to break the lock to get out and steal some food because Aunt Petunia wouldn't feed me. I think I heard Aunt Petunia say something that sounded like wond, or maybe wand."

Harry pulled out his wand and said, "Lumos." The young Harry looked at it in awe. "This, Harry, is magic. I can do all sorts of things with it if I know the right words and moves. Do you believe me?" The young child nodded again, unable to answer with words, for obviously the child hadn't grown out of stage when you believe in most everything. "What do you think you can do with magic?"

"Anything?"

Harry smiled. "Almost. Do you think you can travel back in time with it?" The boy nodded again, although this time he seemed a little less sure. "That's right. Do you remember you dreaming about someone taking you away from the Dursley's?" Harry's eyes lit up with hope, and he nodded again, once more to excited to speak. "You could say that I'm that person. I traveled back in time, with a little help. Harry, I'm you."

He conjured a mirror, finding it easier than he ever had before, and used one hand to lift the boy's bangs, while doing the same with his other hands to himself. The young boy gasped, because he'd never seen or heard about anyone else with a scar like his, and surely he would have heard about everything from the amount of magazines he read that his aunt leaves lying around.

Still, this was a bit of a leap for the child, and couldn't believe that so easily. "H-how do I know that you're not kidding?"

Harry had expected that he'd meet with some resistance, though this was less than he thought he would get. "How else would I know what all that stuff I asked you about without being you? Have your family ever told anyone about you?" "After a shake of the boy's head, Harry continued, "I used magic to come back in time, because I need to try again. When I grew up, things went wrong, and my friends were hurt. I need to stop that from happening again. I can only do that if I do it with you. You are me, that's why I need you, I couldn't start over with someone else.

"You're a wizard, Harry. You're just young. You can't do any magic on purpose, only when you're really scared, or angry. Things like that make your magic come out and help you. Can you understand that?" The younger Harry, who had an even more practical mind than the older Harry had had at his age, nodded, accepting the fact that what happened might be magic.

"When you're old enough, you'll go to a school. It's an amazing school, full of wonderful things, and you'll find a lot of real friends. I did, and I know that you will too."

The child forgot his skepticism in the face of friendship again. "Really? Can you tell me about them?"

"I can do better than that. Let me show you." Harry put his wand to his own head, concentrated for a moment, and pulled away a silvery string, that hung in the air, vibrating intensely.

Hiding his surprise at the ease with which he did slightly difficult magic again, he touched the wad tip lightly on the boy's temple, ignoring the small flinch that came from him.

The child watched as a boy a little older than him, who looked like him (_was_ _him_, he realized) wandered around a train station, and met the family called the Weasely's. He saw as Harry met the twins, Ron, then Hermione and Neville, and a few of the times he had shared with them, though it seemed as if things were being left out, time was skipping ahead, and Harry believed his counterpart had deliberately left things out.

Wondering why, but not really spending much time on the question because of the multitude of amazing things that were currently besieging him, he continued on through Harry's first year, until it came to an abrupt halt, and he could see the man again, and the person who he now believed without a doubt was indeed his future self seemed to be struggling not to cry.

"What's wrong?"

The older Harry looked into his eyes. "Just old memories. They can hurt sometimes. Now, I came back because things went wrong in my time. People got hurt, my friends included, and I wanted to try again."

"But what can I do?" The younger child seemed to be struggling to not show his approaching feeling of helplessness. It showed through his eyes that he did not believe himself capable of helping anyone, but rather that he was just a small 8-year-old child who didn't have enough strength to do anything of use.

"I can make us join together. Our minds will be put together, into one. We'll have each other's memories and experiences, but they'll seem to be our own, not another person's. We can stop our friends from being hurt, if we work together. But, it's up to you. If you join minds with me, you'll see all of the things I've been through. You'll see those friends hurt, and many much, much worse things. I don't want to force you, though. It's up to you."

"If it'll help my friends, and give me more of them, I'll do anything. I don't care what it is, I won't let any of my friends get hurt!"

"I'm glad you feel that way. I thought you would, seeing as I do as well. This won't be easy though, and I have to do it now, if ever. Are you ready?"

The boy braced himself, and nodded. Harry pressed the wand against his head again, and a much more fierce look of concentration came upon his face. When he pulled away, a writhing bundle of silvery strands, ten times as brilliant as the one before it, came out, and then the man placed the child's hand on his breast, right where his heart was, in accordance with the ritual that seemed to have been implanted in the man's head from his talk with Destiny, despite the fact that the words had never been spoken.

Slowly, anticipatingly, he placed the wand against the boy's forehead, and with a burst of magic, shoved the child's hand through his clothing, through his skin.. While the skin did not break due to the magic, both man and child pitched face first onto the ground, the child resting partially on top of the man. Then there was a flash of light, and the strands of quicksilver on the wand disappeared into the boy's head, and the man became translucent, like a ghost, but did not fade completely.

**And the second chappie! YAY!**

**Sorry about the wait, but I had to do a lot of double-checking. Thanks tons to my beta, ryota is evil.**

**IMPORTANT**

Okay, I said Ron betrayed Harry in the prolouge. Now let me say this: Ron did NOT betray in the way you might be thinking of. Harry has fogiven him and DOES NOT hate him, so don't think this is a Ron bashing story. There will be a minor fight, which will be quickly reconciled, but of course you're going to have a fight with a hothead like Ron. Also, only SLIGHT Dumbledore bashing. He will be a major asset, because he IS a powerful and knowledgeable wizard. Harry throwing his help away would be stupid, because it IS help, even if he has to get Dumbledore to settle down a bit.

REVIEW PLEASE! I accept flames, as long as the have cronsructive critiscm. After all, telling me how much I suck won't make me any better nor will it allievate the headache your getting from a horrible story, now will it?


	3. Chapter II: Wanted and Unwanted

**I'mgoing to putthe rating down to T, but it might go back up to M later in the story.**

**Sorry to anyone who wanted it, but Harry will not be leaving the Dursley's anytime soon. There is going to be more on this subject in later chapters, so you'll just have to wait.**

**Harry's experiences throughout his adult life are not going to be on here for two reasons. #1. It would be a TON of trouble, and I want to get things done in this chapter. #2. I need it for later chapters.**

**Thanks to: ryota is evil, Frog1, Vellouette, jessika black, witowsmp, and Aryes for reviewing! I love you all! Go have a cookie, chocolate, cake, or ice cream! Whichever you prefer! (No, I'm not providing them, it's just a suggestion.**

**Disclaimer: No.

* * *

**

**_Chapter Two: Wanted and Unwanted_**

Harry sat up slowly, groaning. His eyes widened, as he realized he had made a sound, and clapped a hand to his mouth. A second later, however, he thought: _Why would I worry about Uncle Vernon? Wait a second… Where am I?_

He shot up, remembering how he had been about to go out and face Voldemort, so he expected to be restrained somehow. Surely if he had been knocked out it was because Voldemort had captured him… That was one weird dream he'd had while he had been unconscious… However, when he met no barrier, he overbalanced and nearly smashed into a small, crusty mirror leaning against where he had been lying down.

'Mirror? But… I don't have any mirrors anymore…' Trying to find out what was going on, and if he was injured when whatever had happened, happened, he looked into the mirror, trying to discern the figure reflected back at him, but the image was blurry.

_Why would it be blurry? I got my eyesight fixed a while back… _He saw a pair of glasses on the moldy shelf next to where he had been sleeping, and decided to try them on. _What the Hell?_

Instead of a normal height man, skinny but not anorexic-looking, and scars crisscrossing his abdomen and a broken nose, obviously someone who had his fair share of a war, he saw what appeared to be small enough to be a six-year-old boy, but the features themselves looked a little more like seven or eight-year-old.

A few scars, probably from glass shards or something like that judging by the way it was sliced rather than torn, a distinctive lightning-bolt scar and shining emerald eyes. Definitely not a twenty-seven-year-old man who had seen more battles than he wanted to, more like a seven or eight-year-old child who was neglected and abused. _Hey, I've got that finger back too… _Harry thought idly. He had lost his middle finger when he had "angered" the Dark Lord by making a rather sharp hand gesture. _Maybe it wasn't a dream… But this is crazy! Then again, I've already decided that I'm completely insane…_

He started checking his Occlumency shields, a habit he had picked up when he was recovering from a friend's death. It helped him concentrate and calm down, seeing as how similar to meditating it was. What he found did anything but calm him.

Harry had become well accustomed to the feel of his Occlumency walls, for sometimes he spent hours, even days, sitting and feelings his mental wards, basically massaging his mind.

Occlumency is one of the magics of the mind, and, as such, must be compatible with the mind using it. That would mind would go insane from trying to encompass the endless swirling vortex that was completely stationary and smaller than a dust particle, from which the mind was… born, for lack of a better word.

Therefore, most people see a field in front of something like a wall standing guard in front of a castle, fortress, or sometimes library. One person was renown for having what appeared to be a three-hundred-yard thick wall of gelatin, inside of which was a large pomegranate. It was assumed that each seed in the pomegranate held one aspect of the mind.

Harry himself was used to a three-inch wall of steel, about thirty-five feet high. While not considered a bad wall, when it came to Voldemort it was barely able to keep out dreams.

Now, however, Harry saw a towering wall of black stone, with some random jagged spikes. The stone reminded Harry a little bit of obsidian, but it was obviously a completely different thing all together. Harry wasn't even sure whether it _was _stone or not.

It extended at least seventy feet into the air, and, judging from a hard flick, was over four feet thick, unless sound just didn't carry on this material.

Nursing a now throbbing finger, Harry walked along the side of the wall, noting that it curved slightly, but not nearly as much as it had originally. This made him think that for some reason his mind had gotten bigger. Oh well, this was just another reason for Snape to say his head had inflated. He continued on for about thirty-five more paces before coming across another huge difference.

There, maybe fifteen feet ahead, was a new barrier. The black stone got shorter and thinner, and then there were gaps as the black began to have slivers of red-brown, probably some kind of wood. Soon it was more wood than stone, and finally all wood, making a new, but shabbily made, fence.

He went back to the wall and walked up to it, wondering if it would respond as his old wall had. Yes, it surged and seemed to melt and move outwards, away from his hand, leaving a small hole directly in front of his hand. Smiling, he took a step forward and pressed himself against it, and waited for it to finish melting, moving, reforming, and hardening.

When it was done there was a rectangular entrance to the wall, about the height and twice the width of Harry. It was seamless; appearing as if it had always been that way, and had not just rearranged itself. Then he took another step and let it repeat the process, and another.

At four paces in, the small pathway began to close in at the end that led back outside. It left him completely blind, senseless, and directionless, as it took the last of the twilight away. Unfortunately, seeing as how he wasn't completely inside his own mind yet, he couldn't call up any light into existence, or anything to point him the right way.

His chest began constricting as suddenly claustrophobia set in, and he realized he had no idea which way went where, he could very well wander sideways along this wall forever, continually getting turned around by whatever traps this foreign defense had. Not exactly a comforting thought.

He panicked, and began taking steps forward to quickly in his fear-driven haste, and bumped his nose numerous times on the unforgiving stone.

It took thirty-five more paces, sixteen nose bumps, and eleven well-deserved curses, but Harry finally burst into what appeared to be an air pocket, with another dark black wall impeding his path about two paces ahead. The wall seemed to have randomly placed microscopic holes dotting it.

Harry felt both hope jump up into his chest and fear settle in his stomach. He had read in one of Dumbledore's books that thicker walls had this kind of pocket just before the exit. However, the mind was well known for pulling pranks on the body, pranks much worse than anything the Weasley twins could pull off, and even more often.

The pinpricks of light could very well just be his brain rejecting the idea of such complete blackness, and while the ground beneath his feet seemed a shade lighter black, not quite gray, there wasn't enough of a contrast to be sure.

As he tried to shake those doubts out of his head, he closed the last of the distance, and stuck out his hand, stopping just in front of the wall of darkness.

Sunlight, warm and pure, shone through, bright enough to force him to squint. He sprinted through the wall as quickly as he could, and fell onto the ground, all of the fears of his life soundly vanquished by the glorious light surrounding him. It felt as if the sunlight itself was caressing him, holding him tight and telling him not worry.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and took in the sight around him. His first thought was: _Holy crap._ which was then followed quickly by: _What the hell?_ and finally: _This isn't the same._

He was on the edge of a field, a field of green, luscious, soft grass, and ahead, in the middle of the field, was a large book, an enormous tome, easily big enough to hold every scrap of book he'd ever seen, and then some. He got up and walked towards it, relishing the tranquility, the peacefulness that he felt for the first time in his life.

When he was in front of the tome, he reached out and attempted to open the cover. _Bloody hell, this is heavy._ He braced himself and used both hands to tug sharply on the cover. It fell open with a sharp _Crack!_ when it hit the stone table on which it was resting.

Looking inside, Harry saw thousands, millions of columns. One line said: _Thoughts of the Thirteenth of July, Nineteen-Ninety-Three; Transfiguration._ The one beneath it stated: _Thoughts of the Thirteenth of July, Nineteen-Ninety-Three; Walking to Potions._

_What the Hell?_ Harry thought._ God, there've been way to many times that I've thought that phrase lately…Good thing Hermione doesn't know. _Harry pushed away that painful thought with a wince, and thought about the title in front of him for a second, wondering what it could possibly mean, then gasped as the inky scrawl in front of him was suddenly wiped out, and quickly written in was: _"Bloody Hell, I'm never going to get that essay for McGonagall. Snape's going to kill me, I barely started his essay…"_

Harry had seen this before, but he couldn't remember where… If only Dumbledore was there… Dumbledore… Dumbledore! That was it! Onceafter one of his Occlumency lessons, he had accidentally broken into Dumbledore's mind. The old headmaster immediately realized this, and took down his own shields, allowing Harry full access to his mind. But when Harry looked in, all he saw was a large book, which he couldn't open, except to a few pages…

When Harry had asked what it was, Dumbledore replied that it was "In effect, a mental table of contents," meaning that each title was a series of thoughts. You concentrate on one title, and you then see those thoughts. However, this only happened with the most spectacular, busiest minds, with the largest amount of information stored away. Certainly Harry did not have such a large mind… last time he had checked his mind, he had a book about the size of two advanced potions making books, but it held all of his thoughts without anything hidden.

The he remembered the next thing the old wizard had said. "In chronological order…"

Struck by sudden inspiration, Harry tried to open the pages closest to the end. It didn't even budge. Surprised, Harry attempted to dig his nails in between the pages, but they ran like water, reforming around his nails, not letting him get a grip. It reminded him of a book he had read once, the first book in a series called _The Keys to the Kingdom_. Something about a thing called _The Compleat Atlas to Houses_, or something like that.

He shook the thought out of his head and gave up, there was nothing he could do, and if there was anything he had learned throughout his life, it was to not waste any resource you had, and that included time. He stepped back through his self-appointed mental barrier, and began walking back, this time more confident, although he had no reason to be. He was just as likely to get lost this time as the last.

Sure enough, it took him an extra ten steps before he hit the other side. He jogged back to the fence, hoping to notice something new. He did see something new, but it wasn't what he had even begun to expect. The fence had become slightly darker, but it was such a small difference that Harry wasn't sure he had actually seen it. The fence also seemed to be a _little _firmer, as if it was taking on the aspects of the huge barrier it was connected to.

Shrugging, Harry decided that he didn't have anything better to do, and sat down. After ten minutes of staring, he was sure that the shade had gotten darker, although if he hadn't been watching so closely, he was sure he wouldn't have noticed. Another twenty minutes, and he had no doubt that the fence was indeed changing.

Content with this information, and at all sure of what to do about it, Harry concentrated on feeling, hearing, seeing… slowly, he felt a pressure on his rump, and, opening his eyes, he realized the pressure was himself, sitting on the hard floor of the small cupboard. _If this is a dream, then it isn't bad yet. If, in this dream, I can make things right, then I'm sure as Hell going to make sure that at least my fantasies are better than my real life._

The he heard someone screech, "For the last time, _get up_! I'm going to get your Uncle down there if you don't start making Dudley's breakfast! It has to be ready before he gets UP!" The voice made his blood run cold. _Maybe I haven't gone o the past… I'm not dreaming now, I'm sure of that… Maybe I just dreamt the last however many years up…_

No, to dream of something, you had to have an idea of what the thing was like, and there were things in there Harry had never _dreamt _were possible. _Okay, to save my sanity… sort of… I'm going to just believe that I really did meet Destiny… or Christine…God... man this is confusing…_

With a stifled groan, he stood up, stretching knotted muscles that were protesting with every nerve cell they had. _Oh god, I forgot how horrible this cupboard is…_ The walls had smears of blood on them, though there was more than last time… _Things are different. When did I get a mirror? I thought Destiny… Christine said I would go back to the same Universe, just back in time._

Harry's nose twitched, as he smelt something out of place. Then his eyes widened. _Holy shit! There are loosegases in here! This place is poisonous, not to mention prone to the slightly hazardous act of exploding!_ Even at a time like this, Harry's cynical way of thinking, born of too many years in a losing war as a small child, was still going strong.

Harry burst out of the cupboard, gasping for fresh air.

"Freak! What are you doing?"

Harry whirled around, to face someone he had wished to never see again. He thought he had gotten his wish when they had been killed by Death Eaters two days after he left the horrid house, but there she was.

"There are_gases_ in there that are poisonous, and might _blow up_, _Aunt Petunia_," Harry spat, not even attempting to hide the venom in his voice.

Petunia gaped like a fish for a few seconds, before hauling herself up to full height (in other words, lifting her giraffe-like neck), and glared at the half-naked child in front of her. "Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that? I let you live under my roof, and this is how you repay me? I should-"

But Harry interrupted her. "You _should_ get everyone out of this house and call an emergency center before we all go boom. Got it? I start fire in stove,gases hit it, bye bye house, bye bye us, and bye bye Diddykins. Get it? Now get dear old Uncle and the Great White Whale Mobey Dudley out!"

She stared at him for a second, but seeing the determination and confidence in his eyes, decided to see if what he said was true. "You stay here and watch the house. I'm getting Dudley and your Uncle, and we, that is, Dudley, your Uncle and I, are going two houses down to the Hinkes's to call the gas company. When we get back, your Uncle is going to talk to you." With that, she rushed upstairs, calling for "Honey, Diddy-Darling" to get up.

_Hell no, I'm not staying here._ He watched as the three rushed outside, Dudley's already strained pajamas threatening to rip as he ran. As soon as they were out of sight, Harry opened the back door and sprinted out, cursing his younger body's low stamina. He ran around the house to the side, where there was a hole from when Dudley had tried to set off a small Roman Candle when Harry was six.

But the hole wasn't there. Even better, though, was a fence door, that had either been put in after the hole this time, or Dudley hadn't blown it up in the first place. Harry doubted that it was the latter.

He opened the small gate and slowed to a jog, already slightly out of breath. His muscles were in absolute revolt against him now, but Harry blocked it out; he had had much worse than sore muscles before. Like _blown_ up muscles.

_Okay, let's see… Nothing with a fire should be on… Wait, what was that humming noise I heard? Oh shit! The pilot light! _Once, again, Harry sprinted as quickly as his short, scrawny legs could take him, burst through the back door, and rushed into the kitchen. He reached over and turned out the small flame burning in the stove, and ran, well, more like jogged, outside for the last time.

When he had finally gotten a house down, he heard a siren blaring. He started to head back, but thought better of it. Instead, he crossed the street and watched as a few people in some kind of weird looking suits, rather like biohazard suits, rushed in, carrying instruments that would presumably measure the amount of dangerous chemicals in the air.

Harry watched dutifully, as more and more of the nosy inhabitants of Privet Drive pooled onto the street, a murmuring starting up about what was happening to the most well esteemed neighbors in the neighborhood.

About half an hour after they had entered, the emergency-specialists came out. They immediately walked briskly to the ambulance, or ambulance-like vehicle, and recorded their finds as another reported to the head officer. Harry watched as the people climbed out of the suits and were sprayed down, and then he walked up to them.

"How bad is it?" he said once he reached them, after carefully evading a few diligent police officers.

The person he had spoken to, apparently some kind of nurse, jumped and spun around. "What are you doing back here? How did you get past the guards?"

"Oh, please don't report them, it wasn't their fault they didn't see me. I'm here because I live there, and I'm the only reason me and my family are not in bits and pieces around the wreckage of that house that you just walked out of. So, can you tell me how bad it is?"

The nurse seemed very flustered at this announcement, especially coming from a child who looked to be no older than seven, maybe eight if he didn't get quite the right amount of food. Obviously, the nurse picked up on that little detail, as she _was_ a nurse, and had most likely had worked with children sometime in the past.

"Er, well, I'm not really supposed to disclose these details, but I guess it won't hurt to tell you. Basically, the gases used to heat the house, which are both toxic and combustible, were leaking out of cracks in the pipes in a cupboard beneath the stairs.

"It seems that someone, with very quick thinking, turned off the pilot light, and it was just in time too. The gases have just moved over to the kitchen area, where they had been confined to the cupboard and the immediate area before now. However, we found some… interesting things in the cupboard, and we'll need to talk about that with your Mom and Dad, okay?"

"They're my Uncle and Aunt, and how long will it be 'til we can move back in?"

It was evident that the nurse was completely baffled by the way the small child in front of her had not only seemed to listen to everything she had said, but had understood it as well. "Well, I'm not to sure when you'll be able to come back. It's not so severe that the neighborhood needs evacuation, but we will have to have the house for a while to clean it up. It seems that the gases have been building up for a period of time, so we'll have to be careful about this. It's really astounding that nobody noticed it until now."

"I noticed it."

"What?"

"I noticed it, and I turned off the pilot light."

"Hmmm. How?"

_Oh crap. I'm acting way to old. She's getting suspicious. I better play it down a little. _"Well, I was walking past the cupboard, and I smelled something really weird. It burned my eyes, too. I heard a hissing, and I remembered one safety commercial I saw once that said something about gases and that kind of thing.

"Then I told my aunt to what I thought, and that I heard a hissing coming from under the stairs, and she got up Dudley and Uncle Vernon. Then I remembered that there was a flame that we never turn off from cooking lessons with my aunt. I asked Aunt Petunia about it, and she went and turned it off, so I guess _I_ didn't turn it off, but I helped."

She sensed the sudden change in the child's demeanor, but kids were weird little things anyway. However, she didn't doubt this little kid's story. Anybody else, including some adults she knew, would have embellished their part in a rescue, even if it was on accident, but this boy was completely blunt, and the sharp green eyes seemed to tell her in no uncertain terms: "I'm not lying. Believe me."

"Okay. Well, I need to talk to your Uncle and Aunt. Do you know where they are?"

"Yeah. They should be over at the Hinkes's down that way," he said, pointing. "It two houses down and across the street. See it?"

"Yes, thank you. Well, I might see you again. Bye."

"Thank you. Bye." Harry turned away and started walking.

She shook her head, and tried to get back to work, but couldn't get the thought of one Harry Potter completely out of her head.

If you had been watching very closely, you might have noticed her eyes change from blue to blue-green, and her dark red hair become even darker after she made a twisting face.

**

* * *

I'm horribly sorry, but I will not be updating for a LONG time! About a month, maybe longer. I'm going to camp on tomorrow, and I wasn't even able to get this to my beta (sorry ryota is evil), or even double check this! **

**That means that I'm sorry if there is an abnormally large amount of uh-ohs and whoopsies or even a few "huh?"'s in this chapter, but just try to be happy a got it out! I barely managed to! I'm going to be writing in a notebook while I'm at camp, so _hopefully_ I will get the next chappie out a little bit after the twenty-ninth, but no guarantees. Bye, toodles, love ya all, have fun, and stay in trouble!**

**Also, I was going to have this chapter be longer and end differnently, but I had no time, so sorry!**


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